


Learning Curve

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [34]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Parental Discipline, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 34: Future.  Sam's lessons with Missouri continue, both boys are disciplined by not only Missouri but John as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Sigh. As I'm posting these, I'm sort of... shocked... at how much spanking there is in them. My apologies to those who don't care for that flavor of thing. I can promise you that there are fics that don't involve it, I can promise you that there's sort of a story arc started at this point. All I can do is tag things well for you!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Sam’s sitting with Missouri, looking sulky, and both John and Dean are wondering when she’s going to adjust his attitude for him. He’s going through yet another exercise, one that involves him concentrating on some exercise she taught him while she invades his space – personal, mental, and psychic. They’ve paused for the moment, and the young man is slumped against the couch. They’ve been at this for two days, and Sam’s built-up good nature from the downtime at Tess’ is quickly souring. John knows damn well that Dean swatted Sam a couple of times this morning while John was in the shower, fast and hard judging by the way Sam fidgeted at breakfast, and he’s going to have the boy over his own knee if he doesn’t sweeten up.

Missouri turns to Sam, clapping her hands together.

“Finally! I was beginning to think you wouldn’t get it, Samuel.”

“It worked?”

“Yes, it worked, you fool boy, now you stop and think back about what you did different this time. We’re going to stop for some supper, baby, go back to it afterward.”

Sam gives a distracted nod, and Dean fidgets, drawing up the cuff of his pants to look at his ankle, where the rash has finally subsided. Missouri notices him, and pulls over an ottoman, sits in front of him.

“You let me see, Dean.” He rolls his eyes, and she swats his thigh sharply. “Mind your manners, boy,” she says for the third time today, and he knows it’s the last warning he’s gonna get. He warily eyes John, wondering if the slap to his thigh counts. John gives him a steady look, and a nod, and Dean’s sinking back into the worn fabric of the chair. Missouri looks up, and a smile crinkles the corners of her eyes, and spreads over her kind face. “Well. I think you’re over your bout of poison ivy, boy. I never did dream it could get so bad, I’m sorry you had to go through that.

He’s feeling miffed that he’s going to get disciplined, but he nods in reply.

“Me too, Missouri. Better me than the kid, though.”

“All three of your could stand to be better patients in the future, you know,” she mutters, gazing around at the Winchester men littering her living room. They don’t come with much clutter, but they take up a lot of space with their big souls, not to mention that each and every one of them tops six feet. She bustles off to the kitchen to put supper on.

John rises from the little desk he’s crowded in at, reading over a reference book.

“Let me see, Dean,” he rumbles, and Dean shifts like a scolded child, sticking a foot back out for John to examine. Sam’s rummaging around in his bag for something to write on, neither man is surprised to see him taking notes. Missouri’s just in the doorway taking a breath to call them in when Sam slaps his pencil down, growling an aggravated fuck that in a low tone. She doesn’t hesitate, she marches right up to him and – Dean absolutely marvels – yanks him up from the couch. Dude. The woman is half of Sam, and… And she’s got him firm in her grip, and he’s stumbling along behind her to the kitchen, where the sounds of startled yelps and loud smacks reach their ears. Dean winces. That wooden spoon is huge, and she has a hell of a swing. John’s shaking his head. He turns to Dean.

“YOU, will see me before bed. And when I’m through with you, you’ll send your brother down to me.”

“Yessir.” Dean’s subdued, wondering if John’s going to make a point, or well… make a hard point. For sure Sam’ll be upset when he comes to bed. When they slide into the dinner table, Sam’s flushed and fidgeting. John clears his throat as they’re finishing, after a rather remarkably silent meal.

“Missouri, Sam’s done at eleven. Or sooner, if he can keep up whatever it was he managed earlier.”

She lifts an eyebrow, but seems to realize that he’s an immovable object on the subject. She spends a few minutes speaking quietly with Sam, and the men are pretty sure it involves a threat, because despite the chastisement, he’s sulky again. She shoos Sam out at eleven, and he looks tired, but both of them look pleased.

“Dean, take your brother and go get ready for bed. I’ll expect you back down while Sam’s getting cleaned up.”

Missouri eyes him.

“Going to carry out that threat?”

“Those boys know better, Missouri.”

“That they do.” She rocks quietly for a few minutes. “Close the kitchen door so you have some privacy, Johnny.”

He chuckles quietly, listening to the sounds of his sons rummaging around upstairs. It isn’t long before Dean’s reluctant footsteps are entering the room, and he beckons his son into the kitchen. Missouri is leaned back in her rocker with her eyes closed, her hands still in her lap, though she’s holding some mending that looks suspiciously like one of John’s shirts.

John faces his son quietly. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yessir.” His son is quiet, maybe a little trepidatious, and John feels a little guilty, but he’d warned the boy.

“Sometimes you have to try a little harder, with certain people. I don’t get along with that voudoun down in New Orleans you like so much, Sam doesn’t get along so well with Caleb. But we try, because we depend on them, our lives can depend on them at times. Understand me?”

“Yessir.” It’s quick, he simply grabs Dean’s arm, bends him over, and lands half a dozen hearty swats to his oldest boy’s behind. It’s a little more than he deserves, but maybe it’ll discourage Dean from crossing that line with Missouri again while they’re here. He pulls the boy in for a hug, and Dean relaxes against his father’s broad chest, annoyed that he’s so comforted by the whole routine – maybe he’s more tired than he thought.

Sam’s feet drag even more than Dean’s did on the stairs, and John’s got a stern look well in place by the time his youngest makes it into the kitchen.

“You know the rules, Sammy. You respect the people we stay with, or you pay their consequences AND mine.”

Sam nods unhappily, and John seats himself in a kitchen chair, beckon to the boy. It’s more awkward this way, probably more embarrassing for Sam, but he’ll take it. Sam looks relieved when John doesn’t make a request for his pants to come down, and settles himself in place cautiously. He’s flinching within the first five swats though, because apparently John’s making some effort to compensate for the lack of bare skin under his hands, and as the spanking goes on, the tears roll freely down his face, because he’s tired, and it hurts, and with as long as Missouri tends to go on with the spoon, it’s hard for John to judge what doubling her punishment is. Finally, though, he feels John sitting him upright, and his already flushed face turns a few more shades, because John’s got him on his knee like a little boy, but damn if it doesn’t feel good. He hugs tight to his father without thinking, then freezes.

“It’s all right, Sammy.” John’s arms circle him and Sam just leans against the strength of the man, tuckered out, wondering if he’s always destined to feel like he doesn’t have anything left to work with. “Now. You mind your manners in the morning, or we can revisit the issue.”

“Yessir.”

“I won’t be up for an hour or two, it’s early yet, but you boys look tired.” Sam nods, rubbing at his eyes, and John tightens his embrace momentarily. “You getting what you need from Missouri? This helping?” He gets another nod.

“Ought to go see Jim, too.”

“We can arrange that – see if Dean and I can find a hunt, I’ve got to take that boy out before he goes stir crazy, Sam, but this is important with you, too.” He holds the boy, feeling him grow more drowsy. “Now get on up to your brother before he sneaks down here to make sure you’re ok, and I have to yell at him.”

That gets a chuckle out of Sam, and he obeys without question. John’s appreciative. It worries him, the things he has to do to keep his boys safe, and he sure as hell doesn’t understand what the boy’s doing with Missouri, other than the fact that she says Sam will be safer – and that’s all he wants, really, that provision for the future. Safety.


End file.
